


The moment I wished to last forever

by Ajalea



Series: bed scenes and other patrochilles drabbles [1]
Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:39:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ajalea/pseuds/Ajalea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One morning Pat wakes up before Achilles and even after all this time, he still can't believe how he gets to wake up next to him every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The moment I wished to last forever

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome me in the fandom of the Greeks haha
> 
> This is one of (probably) a few oneshots to practice with first person pov and present tense. I'm not used to either and I wanna do it right when I start writing a full fic for this fandom ^^ 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading this~

Long blond hair hides parts of Achilles’ face. I want to push it away to see more of his face, but I don’t. It’s adorable.

In our hurry to get into bed last night, neither of us had thought about closing the curtains and now the early morning sun is blessing that beautiful face with rays of sunshine.

His eyes are hidden, so I can’t see if Achilles is awake. His breathing is slow and he hasn’t said anything yet, so I let myself stare – study – at his face a little longer.

His long and light eyelashes, that in an awake state, frame passionate green eyes. I had once compared Achilles’ eyes, first to a forest, then to grass. Achilles had laughed, said his eyes were nothing special. Everyone but him refused to accept that.

In all honesty, Achilles really believed his eyes weren’t the prettiest in existence and instead made it about me. He is good in doing that. After that conversation I never mentioned it again, knowing that he would dismiss it.

My eyes follow the line of his nose to his mouth, his lips. They’re slightly parted and in the corner of his mouth I can see a tiny trail of saliva running down. Knowing that I am the one to (hopefully) ever see this cute side of him, I can only smile. Achilles mouth, perfect in shape _and_ skills.

I can’t remember all the times Achilles has taken my breath away with just a touch of his lips anywhere on my body.

Before I realize it, I am touching his forehead, moving away the bangs that are in front of his closed eyes. The black circles under his eyes show his lack of sleep from last night. I must look the same, but I am too lazy to check. Too enchanted even.

In Achilles’ neck, partially hidden by his godly hair, is a bruise. I remember that bruise, I left it there, the memory is still fresh.

I am torn between the wish to wake him and to let this moment drag on, preferably forever. Not deciding is picking the second option. For now. Achilles looks too peaceful to disturb.

I take three locks of hair and start braiding it carefully, so I wouldn’t wake the poor victim. A few minutes and five braids later, I decide it’s time for a picture. I snap a few good ones – and a few terrible as I join in the photos with my favorite peace signs.

It turns out I am right on time, as Achilles moves the moment I close the app on my phone. His eyes remain closed, but he shifts, rolling on his back.

I lean over him and kiss his lips. Despite my efforts to make little movements, he isn’t surprised and even kissed me back. Before I know it, I am the one lying on my back and looking up to a face that is half asleep.

Achilles’ eyes, though in the shadow of his body, seem to illuminate themselves. They are so much brighter than they appeared in my memories, it makes me want to cry. How can I muster up the strength to resist those eyes.

In a second, Achilles is next to me on the bed, his hands pull me closer. I am used at being the little spoon and I feel his nose in my neck. He mumbles something I can’t hear and his breath slows down again.

He is holding me pretty tight, but I don’t mind. Gently, I rub little circles on his hand with my fingers, earning an appreciative soft grunt from behind me. I hold pride in knowing what he likes.

His grip gets tighter, pulling our bodies even closer. _Clingy bastard_ , I think fondly. I am neither uncomfortable nor do I have the need to get up.

I feel his breath in my neck, his calm heartbeat through his chest that is connected to my back and in that moment of perfection, of _happiness_ , I, too, drift off once more. Safe in his arms.


End file.
